


Out of the Shadowlands

by BlueFox7



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Deaths, Distant future, Final Death, Gen, and a nod to C.S. Lewis, it doesn't stick, that doesn't stick either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 15:41:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14192292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFox7/pseuds/BlueFox7
Summary: “He’s been forgotten.  When there’s no one left in the living world who remembers you, you disappear from this world.  We call it ‘the Final Death.’”“Where did he go?”“No one knows.”But those who pass from the Land of the Dead will know.It happens to everyone eventually…[How the Riveras pass from the Land of the Dead, and what comes after]





	Out of the Shadowlands

 

It happens many, many years from now.  (Perhaps 500 years, perhaps 5,000.)

The Earth has changed, and many old traditions have faded.    Many memories have been lost.

Thanks to Héctor’s songs, and then Miguel’s, the Rivera family have been remembered so very much longer than most.  Yet not even they are immune to the passage of time.   There comes a day when some of their own start to fade.  This time, the well-known signs are not so scary as they once were.   After so many centuries together, they all know in their bones that, at last, it is time to rest. 

~O~

Óscar and Felipe go first, surrounded by loved ones, and with smiles on their lips.  They go together, the glowing dust from their bodies mingling as it is carried away.

Rosita and Victoria leave soon after.  Then Elena and Franco, Luisa and Enrique, and shortly after, “Little Socorro,” (who lived longer even than her namesake, finally joining the rest at age 104), all at last moving on from the Land of the Dead, each letting go in the knowledge that– whatever comes next –they are loved.

Papá Julio once again must leave his dear Coco behind. 

“Always going on ahead, _”_ she whispers to him _._ “I’ll follow you soon, _amor.”_

Miguel’s wife, Ana, lingers a little longer.   She squeezes his hand just before she goes, grateful that they grew old together – and then grew old together again.  

~O~

Héctor, Imelda, and Coco, linger too.  Héctor’s songs are remembered, and so he is remembered, and because they are the heart of his music, Imelda and Coco are remembered.  And yet even for them, time is relentless.

Imelda is the next to say her goodbyes. 

“Héctor, my love, it seems I am the one leaving you, this time.  I am sorry, _querido_.” 

He smiles fondly, and says, “ _Aunque la vida me cueste,_ Imelda _, no dejaré de quererte.”_ And they share a last gentle kiss, and she is gone.

~O~

Héctor's goodbye with Coco is harder.  Their years together in death have outstripped their years apart in life, many times over, and yet Héctor is sure he could never be ready for this.

Coco says goodbye to Miguel first. ("Thank you, my sweet boy. _Te amo, m’ijo.”_ )

Then she gently touches her father’s cheek. 

“I have lived enough, Papá, and I am happy.  We have had such beautiful years together.  Promise me you will also be happy!”

“I will try, m’ijita.  I will try.”

And then, she almost laughs as she adds, “And you must always keep singing!  However long is left, _Papá,_ keep playing and singing, and… _remember me.”_

Héctor tries to return her smile, letting it dissolve into a sob only as her hand disappears from his.

Miguel holds his great-great-grandpa for a long time after she is gone.  He lets Héctor weep in his arms, just as Héctor did for him so very long ago, when Miguel was just a child lost in the Land of the Dead, afraid.  Now, Miguel is an old man, and comforting his Papá Héctor like this, he is powerfully reminded that Héctor was scarcely more than a boy when he died.   

~O~

At long last, there comes a day when Héctor once again sees the glow of the final death start flickering across his bones, and he laughs. 

“Just like the day we met, eh chamaco?  It was true, what my little Coco said.  We’ve lived enough.  I’m ready for this, m’ijo.   So ready!  I don’t… I don’t know what comes next.  But I have hope, m’ijo.  See you on the other side, eh?”

And Miguel finds himself smiling through his tears.  The flickering grows and pulses, and then rises like sparks from a fire, and Papá Héctor is gone.

~O~

 In the end, it is only Miguel left of the “Old Riveras,” (as their youngest descendants tend to call them).  He still has family here, of course; some of the newer generations are even making shoes again!  He loves them all, and they love their ancient ancestor, _Papá Miguel._ But he has come to understand what Mamá Coco and Papá Héctor had meant: _I have lived enough, that is all._  

He is ready.

One Día de Muertos, he sees the familiar glimmer dancing across his own bones.  He calls together his descendants and tells them one last time how dearly he loves them all, how proud he is to be their family.  They spend a last day together, and bid farewell.

 Miguel’s world fades away in a mist of glowing gold.

~O~

The gold grows brighter and brighter and fills Miguel's vision.

_So this is what it’s like,_ he thinks.  _I always thought they faded into darkness.  Maybe the darkness was left behind because all the light is here!_

Then the gold resolves itself, and Miguel gasps.  _This is what it’s like…_

He had expected darkness.  He had expected oblivion, or something like it.  Some hazy existence, only vaguely aware of self, or perhaps nothing at all.

This place makes the old worlds – living and dead – seem like hazy existence.  The light here makes those worlds seem dim and grey. (Light so clean and crisp and bright it ought to hurt his eyes, but it does not; light almost tangible in its vibrancy, illuminating colors he’s never seen or even imagined).    

There is no loss of self.  He knows himself, now, as he never could before: knows who he truly is, and _why_ he is, and he knows… 

He knows _them._

They are here, all of them: Óscar and Felipe, Rosita and Victoria and Julio, Abuelita Elena, his parents, his cousins, his dear little sister Socorro…

Here is his beloved wife Ana, reaching out to take his hand.

Here are Mamá Imelda, and Mamá Coco, embracing him... 

Here is Papá Hector, eyes shining, face radiating joy. 

[All their faces are joyful, and they are real faces now – no more painted skulls and bare bones!  Each now seems ageless in a way their skeleton bodies only hinted at: faces at once full of the wisdom of age and the exuberance of youth, each timeless now because they are beyond time.  He sees it most plainly with Coco: still in every way his great-grandmother, but no longer white-haired or wrinkled or bent with age; for the first time Miguel truly sees in her the little girl on the family ofrenda.  He sees it too in Imelda and Héctor: no longer ‘the young old woman’ and ‘the old young man,’ their forms are no longer dictated by the tragedy of their lives.   They look much like the couple in their photo, but timeless, each as ageless as the other.]

And Miguel finds he knows them all, knows them completely as he never could in life, can see and feel the very essence of their beings, who they are and _why_ they are, and the beauty of each of their souls, the deep joy that sang each one into creation.  He sees what each had lost and suffered in their lives, how each has been restored and made whole.

 “You see, chamaco?  We were right to hope!”   Héctor is laughing, and Miguel is laughing too now, even as he feels tears running down his cheeks – the emotions too much to be contained.

“We’re… here!  _Really_ here, I mean – and really…. _Real!”_

He feels like a child, again. ( _All things are made new_.)

Héctor grins, looking equal parts “angel bestowing wisdom” and “school boy executing a prank.” 

“Don’t you see, m’ijo?  We never faded away at all – not any of us!  We became whole.  We were like ghosts before, in a ghost world – even in the land of the living, you know?  Just shadows!  Shadows, and then memories of shadows...  When we left there, we became solid and _real_ , and the ghost world faded away from _us_!  We became too solid, too real and bright for the Shadowlands to hold.”    

And then all his family is gathering ‘round Miguel, and sharing in joy, in memories, in laughter, in jubilation.

There will be many more reunions like this, but no more partings. 

Héctor says, “Welcome home, Miguel.”

 

~O~

 

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose this fic is the result of my Easter Sunday musings, and of recently having dealt with death in my own family. I don't know if anyone else will find this meaningful, but it was cathartic for me. The last part is heavily influenced by the writings of C.S. Lewis, especially _The Great Divorce_ and the last few pages of the Chronicles of Narnia. I also borrowed from one of my favorite poems: “Lucinda Matlock,” from _The Spoon River Anthology_ (1916), by Edgar Lee Masters. It can be read in full here: http://www.bartleby.com/84/207.html
> 
> As a side note, this is the first thing I am publishing in many years, and it is an amazing feeling to be writing again. Add me to the list of authors grateful to "Coco" for reviving my (nearly dead) love of writing.


End file.
